


Skin

by Gh0stWr1ter



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Fluff not really..., I haven't the faintest clue what I'm doing with tags, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 03:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5114012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gh0stWr1ter/pseuds/Gh0stWr1ter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fushimi wouldn’t have minded the mark branding a part of his skin couldn’t be seen without a mirror. As it was, Homra’s emblem was quite literally burnt into his body so he couldn’t forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin

              “Fushimi-san!” called Totsuka, the reluctant Homra member cringed slightly. “How’re you enjoying being a Red?” asked the happy go lucky male. Fushimi raised an eyebrow, Totsuka wasn’t the kind of person who would get their words muddled up. Instead of asking, ‘are you enjoying Homra’, he had clearly asked ‘ _how_ are you enjoying Homra’. The two questions would be interpreted exactly the same way for most people, but Fushimi knew Totsuka wasn’t expecting him to answer stereotypically… or perhaps that made him just as predictable in Totsuka’s eyes as any other member.

To someone as observant as Totsuka there was no question of Fushimi’s reluctance to join, the older male seemed to be asking _how_ Fushimi would be integrating with its members so he _could_ enjoy Homra.

              “I’m not planning on becoming buddy-buddy with everyone here, unlike a certain midget.” Drawled Fushimi, unconsciously rubbing collarbone. Totsuka’s eyes flicked up smiling cryptically at his newly branded skin. Fushimi didn’t miss the glance, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. “What?” he asked rudely.

              “Oh, nothing.” Smiled Totsuka, in such a way that definitely did _not_ indicate it was nothing. “I just find it interesting that both you and Yata-chan have Homra’s mark over your heart.” He mused. Fushimi narrowed his eyes, pulling up his shirt to hide the emblem. The positioning of both of their alliances to Homra hadn’t slipped Fushimi’s notice either.

              “It’s not like it means anything.” Muttered Fushimi half to himself, Totsuka answered anyway.

              “I beg to differ.” He spoke, with what Fushimi deemed to be an infuriatingly pleasant tone for someone disagreeing. “Yata-chan wears his heart on his sleeve and puts his whole being into any cause. It’s not surprising that the mark would appear over his chest.” Continued Totsuka blithely ignoring Fushimi’s not to subtle scowl which would normally lead to an abrupt stop to conversations.

              “Well, there’s definitely a flaw in your theory as we’re not deluding either of us into thinking I love Homra as much as that shorty.” Stated Fushimi bluntly, unable to stop himself from getting caught up in Totsuka’s musings. The sandy-haired male smiled knowingly, as if he knew Fushimi would fall into his trap. The teen clicked his tongue.

              “I never said you had the exact same reason.” Pointed out Totsuka, “but your motives are fundamentally the same. Your loyalties both lie in your hearts.” Fushimi opened his mouth as if to retort with a snappy and rude response, but instead found himself gaping. He’d be lying if he said he’d joined for any other cause than to stay with Misaki.

              “Where’s your mark then?” shot back Fushimi, quickly regaining composure. Totsuka’s eyes seemed to twinkle at the younger male’s discomfort. Sadist, thought Fushimi thinking darkly about how anyone could see this man as innocent and good natured.

              “My shoulder blade.” Responded Totsuka, “I wonder what that means about my cause.” He pondered, eyes drifting into the distance thoughtfully.

              “Maybe it means you don’t need to be reminded it exists every living moment.” Said Fushimi dully, he wouldn’t have minded the mark branding a part of his skin couldn’t be seen without a mirror. As it was, Homra’s emblem was quite literally burnt into his body so he couldn’t forget.

              “That’s a nice thought.” Agreed Totsuka nodding slightly, “Don’t let your tattoo go to waste.” He added.

              “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Fushimi as if keeping up the conversation caused him physical pain.

              “I’m sure the positioning of our tattoos are there for a reason. Yata-chan’s is obvious, he can easily display his pride for Homra whether it be for threatening or boosting morale. You should make sure he understands why you too have the emblem over your heart.” Chided Totsuka as if he were teaching a child about the importance of telling the truth.

              “This is a whole load of shit.” Snapped Fushimi, finally standing up, why he had let this conversation go for as long as he had was beyond him.

              “Think about what I said.” Called Totsuka’s voice as the younger male strode away.

              “It’s just skin.” He muttered under his breath, in a tone too quiet for Totsuka to hear.

 

*-* *-* *-* *-* *-*-*-* *-* *-*

             

              Fushimi laughed manically, it hurt, it really hurt. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, mingling with the stench of the dark alleyway. The sounds of traffic and buzzing crowds were muted from his ears. All he could see was Misaki, all he could focus on was the look of sheer horror etched onto his typically cheery face. The artificial lights from the city caught in Misaki’s widened eyes, they glistened as if a tear could fall at any moment.

They were beautiful, sparkling like gems. Misaki was beautiful.

Fushimi wanted to puke.

Would Totsuka be proud? Proud that he had heeded his words, made use of the positioning of Homra’s mark?

Fushimi laughed again, vaguely aware of the noise teetering on the edge of hysteria.

It was stupid.

It was just skin.

There was no need for deeper meanings and philosophical musings about the world.

All that mattered was flesh.

Flesh and blood.

*-* *-* *-* *-* *-*-*-* *-* *-*

Fushimi glared at his reflection, an ugly inflamed burn festered over the left of his chest. It throbbed, more than when he first clawed at the skin, trying to burn and mangle the emblem from recognition. The adrenalin was gone, the feelings were gone. He tried to make a clear cut from his ties with the red clan.

So why? Why did the burn decide to become infected? It was as if the mark continued to mock him, remind him of its existence. Or perhaps it was angry, angry of its ‘misuse’ and how it had been used for pain instead of love.

No, that was stupid. It was a mark on his skin. Simply an annoying blemish which festered from his incessant scratching. Nothing more.

Fushimi hissed a little as he rubbed ointment over the aggravated skin, sticking a white bandage over the mark to seal off its existence to the world.

He glared at his reflection, the white bandage seeming to make his pale skin appear even sicklier. Fushimi clicked his tongue in annoyance.

The red was hidden from sight, but it was still there.

How was it, that that man1 managed to destroy anything and everything with a flame, whilst Fushimi could only use fire to burn things to become permanent?

 

*-* *-* *-* *-* *-*-*-* *-* *-*

 

              “Why did you do that?” asked Misaki quietly, this fingers barely touching as they trailed the remnants of Homra’s mark. Fushimi grabbed the shorter male’s hand, a little more roughly than what he initially intended. Misaki didn’t complain.

              “What, does it really pain you so much to see Homra’s mark tarnished?” spat the dark haired male, blue eyes threatening to narrow into a scowl. Misaki, shifted himself to be propped up by his elbows, taking some of his weight off Fushimi as he lay between the other man’s legs.

              “No, it pains me more to see your skin scarred.” Said Misaki truthfully, “All I could think of, at that time, was how much it must have hurt.” A short silence stretched between them are they remembered how the stench of burning flesh turned their stomachs.

              Fushimi flipped them so that he loomed once more over the red haired male. Misaki looked up at his face with so much love, so much adoration, as if he were the only other soul in existence, the only being that mattered, and Fushimi started to question himself once more. How could he have convinced himself that Misaki’s rage was enough to sate his hunger for attention?

              “Have you ever thought, about how,” Fushimi leaned down to kiss the skin over the left of Misaki’s chest, “this mark pains me?” he asked, murmuring in a low tone which caused the smaller male’s hairs to stand on end.

              “Don’t do that it tickles.” Complained Misaki, attempting to push Fushimi’s head away as he pulled the bed sheets over to hide his reddening face. Fushimi allowed himself to be pushed back, only to snake his arms around Misaki’s waist as he spooned him from behind.

              “What’s the matter, embarrassed? _Mi-sa-ki_?” asked Fushimi blowing the words into his lover’s ear as he rested his chin on his shoulder.

              “Sh-shut up.” Stammered Misaki, back to being a blushing virgin despite him being anything but. Fushimi placed his hand over Misaki’s chest, relishing the steady beat which could be felt through the contact. “What are you doing?” asked the smaller male, there was a reproachful note in his voice but he made no sign of moving.

              “Feeling your heartbeat, touching your skin.” Murmured Fushimi as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

              “You’re really weird ya know.” Laughed Misaki, comfortably hugging the other’s arm closer. Fushimi tightened his hold on the warm flesh in his arms, so solid, yet so fragile.

             

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Footnotes  
> 1\. Reference to Fushimi’s father and how he burnt his class project (an ant farm / nest)
> 
> Authors note:  
> Hullo! I hope you like it (my first K fanfic whoo~) I can’t get enough of this pairing \\(O.O)/


End file.
